Someplace far
away in a bamboo
forest, fibrous leaves,
each an emerald
dagger, whisper
among themselves
in a language I have not
yet learned to speak.
Someplace, a man looks
up and sees burning oceans
of bleached ochre sand,
a taciturn desert realm
whose wealth of emptiness
baffles the eye
and leaves the mind
to it's own
devices.
Someplace distant
as the long-buried past
a vast prairie of ice and snow
melts into the lowering sky,
enfolding the world
in a pale pearl shell—
no discernible difference
between up and down,
left and right,
you and me.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
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